


magic, but the muggle kind

by alpenglow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Post-War, dudley redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpenglow/pseuds/alpenglow
Summary: His kisses weren’t needy like Cedric’s. He didn’t treat her like she was fragile like Harry did. He wasn’t all muscle or all bone; he was soft and firm and alive. She preferred her boyfriends alive.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Dudley Dursley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	magic, but the muggle kind

Scotland was cold and dark in November, but Lee loved it more than he could explain. There was nothing about this country that wasn’t effusive in the way it expressed itself. Long summer nights; biting winter days. It was a refuge for him in a way that Surrey, no matter how comfortable it was, had never been.

Lee threw open the door to the pub, pleasantly surprised by the tinkle of a bell as he pushed open the door. It was dark indoors, too, but it was warm. Soft lighting casted an appropriate ambiance. He tucked his coat under his arm and made his way to the bar.

“What can I get you?” 

The barmaid was young—about Lee’s age—and astoundingly pretty. A lopsided nametag on her blouse read _Cho._ He took longer than expected to formulate a response. 

“Uh—er—whatever’s on tap is fine. Beer.”

She blushed, and something in Lee lurched unexpectedly. 

“Of course,” she smiled, and before he knew it, a cold, frothing pint slid its way in front of him. 

Absentmindedly, Lee drew something in the precipitation on the glass. “Thank you.”

She was just as pink as before, but she nodded. When she turned to her next customer, Lee realized he’d drawn a sloppy little heart. 

* * *

Cho should have known better than to give that Muggle her phone number, but she just couldn’t help herself. _And he’s not a Muggle_ , she reasoned with herself, _he’s just normal_. _And you are too, now_.

What if he just threw the receipt away? Nobody seemed to want them anymore anyway. It was probably banished to some linty abyss in that jacket he was wearing. 

Merlin. If only she could stop thinking about his shoulders in that jacket. 

* * *

It wasn’t that Lee had a drinking habit, it was that he had a _Cho_ habit. At this point, they were beginning to become interchangeable. He barely had enough money to pay for classes, but this—Cho, the pub, all of it—was becoming economically unsustainable.

“Usual?” asked Cho, offering him one of her twinkle-eyed smiles that he could never decipher. 

“Yeah,” said Lee, grinning.

He should just call her. He had her number. (Or, at least, _a_ number. Maybe it was the barman who slipped him his number, one could never be too sure about these kinds of things.) But calling her number felt like making a real move, and moves like that were irreversible. They garnered a certain amount of momentum, and that would either lead to great things—really great things, things Lee had been thinking about a lot lately—or it would lead to an awkward unraveling and an inability to visit what was becoming his favorite pub in Dundee.

“Here you go.” It appeared on the bar across from him not much later. “Weren’t you telling me you have a big exam tomorrow?”

He stared, slack-jawed for a moment. He busied himself with a sip of beer. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course I would. How’d it go?”

“Good, actually. Another big one tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home studying then?”

“No, I’ve got to celebrate my victory!”

She pursed her lips as she held back a smile, shaking her head softly. “Then what about tomorrow’s test? Will you come back and celebrate after that one, too?”

He nodded slowly, realizing that: “Yeah. I just might have to.”

* * *

The Muggle boy kept coming back. (They were all Muggles. _She_ was practically a Muggle. But there was something so profoundly unmagical about him. Some Muggles gave off little wisps of magical energy, but nothing came off him. Super-Muggle.)

She thought about giving him her number again, in case he lost it, but she decided against it. Because what if he _did_ have it? Then, she’d look like a desperate fool who couldn’t take a hint. She had more than enough experience looking desperate in her lifetime. It wasn’t something she was looking to repeat. 

So she poured him his pints whenever he came in and reduced the price when her boss wasn’t looking. She’d take it out of her paycheck, she didn’t mind. She had enough money in Gringotts to keep converting into pounds that she could practically live forever without a job.

He told her about his studies; she was fascinated. _Social work_ , he’d said. What was the magical equivalent? Hogwarts professors? Maybe there was some low-level Ministry position, tucked into a broom cupboard of an office…

She tried to banish the thoughts as soon as they came. She wasn’t a witch anymore.

“Why social work?” she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

A buff man down the bar kept looking at her; she could feel his eyes on her. She tried not to look at him, to not even make eye contact when she gave him his gin and tonic. She just came back to Lee, leaning her head on her hands, both elbows on the bar.

He shrugged. “I… I once knew a kid who had a really bad home life. Awful guardians. I never did anything about it, and I should have. So I figured I’ll make up for it this way.”

“You like kids, then?” 

His eyes lit up. “I love them.”

Merlin and Morgana, he was perfect.

* * *

He braced himself outside the pub. _Come on Lee,_ he encouraged himself, _it’s now or never_.

He walked in with as much calm as he could muster. Cho was at the bar—obviously—waiting on two kids who were definitely carrying fake IDs. Cho gave them a once over, then looked suspiciously at the kids, and let out a long sigh. She set the IDs on the counter and went to make their drinks.

He quirked a brow. He didn’t think she was the rule-breaking type. 

Then again, how was he supposed to know that? Two months coming in and out of this pub. For all he knew, she could be entertaining him for the tips. (Which would have been a terrible bargain on her end. He got lots of flirtatious smiles, and she got no tips.)

He knew a bit about her. Cho Chang from Dundee. Went to a posh boarding school. Wants to be a mum and a painter. She knew just about as much about him. 

He came up to the bar and wiped the sweat off his palms. “Hi there.”

Cho smiled. “Lee! Bit early for you, isn’t it?”

“Here on business, actually.”

She knit her brows. “Business, but aren’t you in uni—”

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

If she was annoyed that he interrupted her, she didn’t show it. Her smile fell and reformed until she was absolutely beaming. “You know, I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“Do you see much of your parents?” asked Lee casually.

Cho flinched so hard she dropped her scone.

"Cho?”

She scrambled for the pastry, setting it delicately on her plate. “No,” she said, clearing her throat. “No, they’re dead.”

This wasn’t first date conversation, but the memories were rushing to her head before she could stop them. She clenched her hand—she’d made so much progress, she’d almost turned off the flashbacks.

May 2nd, 1998. The worst day of her life. She’d begged her parents to run—they would have been fine no matter what. They were the descendants of one of Asia’s most prominent pureblood lines. If Voldemort had won, their lives would have been spared. And now… now blood-status didn’t matter, she supposed. It didn’t seem like the type of thing that Granger girl would allow to matter anymore.

She didn’t know they’d died until the very end.

Lavender was the first body she remembered. She didn’t know Lavender all that well—they’d been in DA together, but that was about it. But Cho had been there when Lavender conjured her first Patronus. And Cho was there when the last flicker of life left her eyes, too.

Then she found Elissa’s. Then Marietta's. 

And Cho didn’t think it was possible to feel that much pain. That much bitter resentment. Not only at Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange or whoever else may have done this to her two best friends. But at Harry, too.

In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel like it was _his_ fault for everything that had happened. His prophecy, his destiny. Her suffering.

Then Voldemort’s voice started whispering in her mind. Harry Potter was dead.

“Cho,” whispered Lee. “I’m so sorry.”

The war began with her first boyfriend’s death. Cedric. It had looked like it was ending with her second boyfriend’s, too.

When Hagrid walked into the courtyard carrying Harry, the world had suddenly stopped moving. Harry Potter, dead? It took every last ounce of her strength not to burst into tears. She wanted to disappear; she almost wanted to give up. To say, _Me next, Voldemort!_ And have it all be over with one painless burst of green light. 

But she squared her shoulders, because she couldn’t do that to her parents.

“How did they die?” asked Lee, just as softly. He grabbed her hands in his. Big hands. Soft hands. She squeezed.

“Um, car crash,” she said. “A year ago.”

When Harry had burst out of Hagrid’s arms, Cho had something to hope for. She ran into the Great Hall, looking for her parents. _Harry’s not dead!_ She wanted to say, _There’s still hope!_

But they were laying on the floor. 

* * *

“Mine too,” said Lee, with difficulty. “Not a car crash, just… Life, I suppose. Dad died a year ago. Mum about six months ago. For Dad it was a heart attack. For Mum… grief. I don’t know how else to explain it, she just died of grief.”

Cho looked up at him with watery eyes. “Oh, Lee, I’m so sorry. What were they like?”

He frowned. “Awful people, really. But they were my parents and they loved me more than anything.”

She squeezed his hands again. “My parents were Frank and Dahlia. What about yours?”

“That’s funny, my mum had a flower name, too. Vernon and Petunia.”

“They’re lovely names,” smiled Cho.

“Yours too.” Lee lifted his teacup like it was a flute of champagne. “To Frank and Dahlia Chang.”

Cho followed suit. “To Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

* * *

He wasn’t like Cedric, and he was certainly nothing like Harry, but Cho was beginning to like him more and more each day. Her Lee. Her _Dudley_ , she supposed, but the name didn’t seem to fit him. He was kind and welcoming. He made her laugh, even if he wasn’t funny at all. He wasn’t clever either, but he could figure out whatever he needed to.

It seemed like he had a dark past. She liked that; she did, too.

His kisses weren’t needy like Cedric’s. He didn’t treat her like she was fragile like Harry had. He wasn’t all muscle or all bone; he was soft and firm and alive. She preferred her boyfriends alive.

He took her to Surrey, where his parents were buried. He’d asked her if they could visit her parents’ graves too.

“Uh, no,” she frowned. “Cremated.” Lie, but close enough. They were buried at Hogwarts in the memorial. She’d probably never see their graves again, if she could help it.

“Cho,” he said, in a slow, low tone that made her muscles tense.

Was this the end? He was either breaking up with her or he had a terminal illness. Considering her track record… she didn’t want to think about it. “Yeah?”

“Cho, I think I love you.”

She cried. He pushed a tear off her cheek, and she sobbed even harder. “God, Lee. I love you, too.” 

* * *

Lee wished his mother was here for his wedding. He was glad she wasn’t planning it, but he wished she was there to see it. Petunia had always cooed about the day her baby boy would get married. Cho understood—Cho understood everything. 

He proposed a year after they started dating. Both of them cried. (Lee never fancied himself much of a crier until he met Cho. She’d taught him a lot, but he learned fast there was an incredible catharsis in a good cry.) 

He joked they should get married in the pub. She laughed, but she swotted him on the arm. 

He wanted to invite Harry. He _really_ wanted to invite Harry. But how did he go about that? 

_Dear Cousin Harry, I know I abused you for 15-17 years of your life but I’m sorry about it all and would love for you to come to my wedding…_

He couldn’t imagine it going well. Seemed like the kind of thing that would get him attacked by an owl or slipped another one of those rotten sweets. 

He carried around Harry like a knot in his stomach, a painful reminder of all of his failures. As a man. As a person. As _family_. He didn’t have any family left; he knew what that was like now. He empathized with Harry in a way he wished neither of them ever had to experience. 

A year in hiding with wizards had really set his head straight about Harry. About magic in general. Not evil, cool. (Conversely, his parents were re-classified in his head as _not cool, possibly evil_. He loved them anyway.)

Besides, he’d never told Cho about the starved cousin who lived under his stairs. She’d run for the hills. And he had _no_ idea how he’d ever begin to explain the whole magic bit… Maybe that was a problem for when they had kids. 

They were getting married in March. He’d think on this Harry business. 

* * *

There were times that Cho didn’t believe she’d make it to seventeen, much less twenty-two. Sometimes she didn’t know if it counted that she made it to 22 when she had nobody to share it with. Not her parents, not her dormmates from school… Not even the DA. 

_But that wasn’t true_ —at least not anymore-- she had to remind herself. She had Lee. And Max, the man who ran the bar. And she’d picked up a few friends in the girls who lived in her apartment complex, even if they only spoke from time to time. There were her regulars at the pub.

Small as her sphere was, there were people who would miss her if she disappeared. Or died.

She needed to think less about death. She was working on that.

She could have more people if she let herself. She could join the Edinburgh artistic society. She could take painting lessons. Edinburgh was a drive away, but she could still Apparate for Merlin’s sake. (Apparition was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself from the Wizarding World. She kept her wand in a lockbox in her closet, and she only ever used it when she needed to get money from her Gringotts vault.)

She _would_ have more people soon. Little Dursley-Changs running around the cottage Lee was buying. Lee was trying to convince her to wait a bit so that they could build savings, but she didn’t want to wait. And she hadn’t quite mentioned to him yet that she was wealthy. She didn’t know how to bring up the globally-prestigious-pureblood family thing. The whole _magic_ thing. That would have to wait until they had kids. She didn’t have the capacity to deal with it sooner.

She spent far too long thinking about death. She spent just as long thinking about magic. They were connected for her. She didn’t see how she could have one without the other. Maybe that was poor logic. Death _was_ inevitable. But it felt present and looming when she felt magic in the air. Grief smelled like magical sparks, and it tasted like pumpkin juice.

She’d told Lee that her first boyfriend died. (Car crash. She needed to find a better explanation for all the deaths in her life soon, or else Lee would start to believe that nobody in Scotland knew how to drive.) She hadn’t told him about Harry or her friends… or about how she felt like part of some tragic bookend for a war she never wanted to be part of. 

One bookend: Cedric. The other: Harry. And every single volume was printed with blank ink, perpetual mourning. Death followed Cho. Pain sought her out. And it only seemed to stop when she left magic behind. 

She held fast to Lee. Her soft Muggle boy. So unmagical that he felt like a hoover. He sucked away all her magic, all her pain.

Every night she prayed her children would be Squibs.

* * *

Lee cried when Cho walked down the aisle. Obviously. She was crying, too, and in his defense, that’s what set him off. Big, joyful tears. He thought his heart might explode. 

They saved the whole front pew for their parents. Empty seats with their handwritten invitations placed delicately upon them. _Mr. & Mrs. Frank and Dahlia Chang_. _Mr. & Mrs. Vernon and Petunia Dursley_. Lee liked to imagine Harry sitting in that front row, too. But he didn’t have an invitation made out. 

They exchanged their vows slowly, savoring every second. Their wedding party was small. Neither of them minded. Max whooped and cheered when they finally kissed and yelled, “Free drinks on me!”

Lee could not think of a better way to end the day. Cho sat the bar with Lee, her white wedding dress leaving a trail towards the door. 

“Nice to see you on this side of the bar for once,” said Lee.

“It’s nice to have you here,” said Cho. She wrapped her slender arm around his, lacing their fingers. Her wedding band caught light between their fingers. “Beside me.”

Lee scoffed. “Please, Cho. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

* * *

No bookends. No grief. Plenty of magic, but the muggle kind. Magic like sparks behind her eyelids when they kissed. Magic like domestic bliss. Magic like a pregnancy test with two lines.

Their small cottage. Their herb garden. And Lee.


End file.
